


Wished on the Lidded Blue Flames Under Your Brow

by perletwo



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Barebacking, Follow-up, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, hints of previous child abuse, hints of previous underage sexual relations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perletwo/pseuds/perletwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint left Principal Coulson alone until his 18th birthday. But from that day on, all bets were off. </p><p>Follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/443102">Principled</a> by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/herinfiniteeyes/pseuds/herinfiniteeyes">herinfiniteeyes</a>, who kindly beta'd this piece. Because the nature of this 'verse is a minefield of triggers, <i>please</i> go check out the warnings on Principled before reading. Don't worry, I'll wait.</p><p>Title is from <i>Love Ridden</i> by Fiona Apple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wished on the Lidded Blue Flames Under Your Brow

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Principled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/443102) by [herinfiniteeyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/herinfiniteeyes/pseuds/herinfiniteeyes). 
  * Inspired by [My heart was wrapped up in clover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/446092) by [sirona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona). 



Clint Barton paced restlessly in the principal's office, stopping to lift two slats of the blinds now and then to check the buses' after-school exodus. Principal Coulson was down there as he was every day, monitoring the onloading of students and rounding up strays.

When he saw the last bus pull away, Clint dropped the shades and sat behind the principal's desk. Before him sat an oversized cupcake with two large wax candles in the shape of a 1 and an 8. He lit them and hastily arranged himself in a relaxed, slouching pose in the high-backed desk chair, one knee hooked over the chair arm.

The door opened, and Phil Coulson stepped in with only a small hitch in his stride at the sight. "Barton."

" _Phil._ " Clint drawled the name seductively and smirked.

"Haven't seen you in a while. I'd think you'd be glad to stay out of the principal's office." He put his clipboard down on the visitor's chair and loosened his tie with a small sigh.

"Sure. But today's a special day." Clint gestured to the cupcake. "I wanna unwrap my birthday present."

"I left that in your locker," Coulson said, and threw Clint a half-beat off balance; Clint had simply dumped all his books and papers into his bag in his haste to arrange this seduction, but he was fairly sure he hadn't seen anything like a gift in there. 

He shrugged it off and rose, stalked toward Coulson. "C'mon. You know there's only one thing I want you to give me." He grinned, licked his lips lasciviously. "Okay, maybe two. Or three." He ran one finger down Coulson's throat, into the gap at his loosened collar. "We got all afternoon."

"Barton -" Phil batted his hand away and stepped back. "What happened last time you were here -"

"- was fucking _fantastic,_ " Clint finished. "I'm going crazy wanting more. Think about it every night when I get myself off." He edged Phil backward until his back was against the edge of the desk, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Bet you do too..."

He had the satisfaction of hearing Phil swallow hard before he found strong hands pushing him back a step. "Barton. _Clint._ I had, I had no right - I swore I wouldn't let it happen again -"

Clint groaned. "Oh. No. Baby, _no._ We were _past_ this," he whined, and cupped Phil's jaw in his hands. He kissed him deep and thoroughly, licking into Phil's lips, past the line of his teeth and exploring the roof of his mouth, his soft palate, the edges of his tongue. At the same time Clint pressed his hips hard into Phil's, rubbed his rising cock against him. 

He managed to make Phil moan before he drew back. "C'mon, I've been waiting _weeks_ for you," he said softly. "I been good, haven't I?"

Coulson stared at him, eyes sharp. "You have. I haven't caught you fooling around on school grounds even once." Clint grinned and nodded. "Why not?"

"...Didn't feel like it," he mumbled, eyes shifted aside, and rubbed his erection more firmly against Phil. It had been a long time since Clint had gone this long without any kind of sex. Oh, he'd had his chances; their big blond Norwegian exchange student Thor had been eyeing him up pretty good. But _letting a bunch of stupid, selfish little boys fuck you,_ Coulson would chide in his head, and his libido would shrivel.

"But now I'm legal, just like you wanted me. See?" He leaned to one side and blew out the candles. "Means I get my wish." Coulson rolled his eyes. "Okay, that was a little cheesy. But I've been playing it your way, Phil." He pushed Coulson's suit jacket down his arms, pulled at the buttons of his shirt, then pushed him back to lie flat on the surface of the desk. 

Clint undid and dropped his own jeans and climbed up to straddle Phil's waist. "Now you can play it _my_ way." He opened Phil's shirt as wide as he could, then backed up on his knees to undo his belt and fly. He pushed the wool slacks down and stroked his palms up Coulson's solid thighs, then gripped the hard length of his erection in his fist and made Phil shudder.

Two fingers picked a small tube of lubricant from his overshirt pocket before Clint shucked it, leaving him in just a gray ringer t-shirt. Phil's hands slid up his sides under the tee and made him shiver with lust. He bent down to kiss the older man again before coating his hands in lube and making a show of prepping himself, sliding his fingers deep inside and stretching himself open. 

Coulson couldn't take his eyes off Clint's hand working against his own ass, and he was panting open-mouthed. Clint smiled down at him. "Baby, it's okay," he crooned as he lined himself up with the head of Phil's cock and sank slowly down. "Everything's right now. I want you, you want me, nothin's in our way anymore..." The words disappeared into a moan of pleasure. "Oh _god_ , Phil, fuck me..." 

Coulson's hips jerked upward and Clint gasped, a red flush spreading over his neck and jaw. "...yeah...oh _yeah_ , that's what I been missing..." Clint's hips worked steadily over Phil's body, and he fought down a sudden urge to laugh. Something was loosening and unfurling inside his chest, expanding and making him lightheaded, and he wondered briefly, _Is this what_ happy _feels like?_

Phil stretched his arms out to his sides, and he let two fingers swipe through the frosting on the cupcake. He pressed the fingers to Clint's lips and Clint let them in, licking and sucking the sugary goo away. Then he leaned forward in a crouch to kiss him, let Phil taste the sugar on his tongue. 

He mouthed and nibbled at Phil's neck, jaw and collarbone, then down into the thin mat of hair on his chest and over to encircle a stiff nipple. Phil groaned and his hips jerked up again at a slightly different angle. The head of his cock rubbed hard against Clint's prostate and Clint's own hips stuttered in their rhythm. 

" _Again,_ " he demanded, voice hoarse, and Phil thrust upward once more. Clint stiffened and gritted out "Oh _god_ \- again - more -" Phil's hands gripped Clint's hips hard enough to bruise and he thrust up into him over and over, and Clint's breathing hitched out with a harsh sob. Tension wound up tighter and tighter in his groin, making him writhe, and then he was coming in short sharp spurts, painting Coulson's chest and his own belly. The spasms triggered Phil's orgasm and the sensations mixed in with the aftershocks, making Clint's vision white out around the edges.

He dropped down over Phil, resting his weight on his forearms, and waited for his heart to stop hammering. Phil stroked the sweat from his temples and neck, brushed his mouth softly over his jaw. 

" _Clint,_ " he whispered in his ear, and the tone of awed joy and affection sent warning shocks up Clint's spine. He lifted back up, something raw and vulnerable on his face before its customary smirk slid back into place.

"Worth the wait," he said as he crawled off Coulson. "I knew you would be." Phil's head dropped back on the desk and he sighed.

Clint stopped with his jeans halfway up to look Coulson over: Spreadeagled on the desk, clothes pushed open, cock out and covered in lube and come, he looked completely debauched and fucked out. 

He looked _delicious._

"Jesus, you do make a picture," Clint muttered. "Worth a thousand. Better'n any stroke book."

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you," Coulson groaned.

Finished dressing, Clint grinned and leaned down to steal a kiss. "Nah. I got _plans_ for you, babe." He plucked the candles from the cupcake and took the sweet with him. "Later."

"Happy - fucking - birthday," Coulson mumbled under his breath as the door closed behind Clint.

*************************************

  


A hard pounding knock sounded on Coulson's door at a quarter to midnight.

"Jesus, Barton, d'you want to wake the whole town?" Clint pushed his way past Coulson and into the front room, and Phil padded barefoot behind him.

"What the fuck is this _bullshit_?" he demanded, wheeling and slapping a manila envelope against Coulson's chest.

Coulson took it from his hands. "Exactly what it looks like. An initial acceptance letter from Ohio State, pending an entrance interview and orientation visit."

Clint snorted. "Right. So OSU has like the Admissions Fairy on staff, and she goes around dropping acceptance letters on underprivileged convicted criminals who _didn't even fucking apply_?"

"It's a birthday gift. You don't have to accept it." Phil sighed, ran a hand through his hair. "I need a drink. You're not legal to drink, though I'm sure you'd never let that stop you."

Clint eyed Phil while he poured his drink, took in the bare feet, the flannel pajama pants, the thin undershirt. "That's what you wear to bed?"

He looked down at himself. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothin'. Nothin'," Clint muttered. "Don't change the subject."

Phil shook his head and settled into a corner of a comfortable-looking sofa. Clint perched on the opposite arm.

"All right. Yes, I put together an application packet and sent it in for you. I figured if you were rejected you'd never have to know about it. But you weren't, so..." He waved his glass in a small circle before taking a swallow.

"What the _hell_ were you _thinking_?!"

"That OSU has some excellent programs that might interest you. That it's far enough away that nobody will know you yet close enough to be in your comfort zone. And that your friend Ms. Romanoff has already been accepted there."

Clint's fists clenched. "I got no business on a college campus and you know it. God, Phil, you of all people -!"

"OSU disagrees," he pointed out. "And I didn't sugar-coat your application. You've got the grades, Clint, and the willpower to go the distance in college if you just commit to it. If anything I think you've had time to act up because you were bored by high school classes."

"Yeah. Speaking of 'acting up.'" Clint hooked his fingers for air quotes. "Think I should just fuck and suck my way through school on my own, or should I have Tasha pimp me out? 'Cause there's _no goddamn way_ I can pay for college."

"Your foster parents -"

"- had my stuff packed and on the front stoop when I got home from school. They need the space for a paying customer." Phil sat up, startled, and started to speak; Clint held up a hand. "Tasha's folks are putting me up in their guest room. For now."

"All right. Look. There are all sorts of grants and scholarships and stipends you can apply for. Ms. Hill in the guidance office can help you map that out. If you need somebody to co-sign on a student loan, I'd be proud to do it."

"Sucker bet." Clint snorted.

"A sure thing," Phil shot back. "Christ, Barton, plenty of kids dumber and duller than you work the system for tuition money every damn day. That's the last thing that should be holding you back."

Clint's lips pursed, and for a moment he looked like the lost boy he'd been. "You really wanna get rid of me that bad, don't you."

Phil bit his lip, then stood and stepped up to face him.

"There's a part of me, a tiny bit in a dark corner, that wants to knock you down and undercut your confidence, so I could keep you under my thumb," he said carefully. "If you think about all the people you've known that didn't care about you, you'll see that's exactly what they'd do. But I _do_ care about you, Clint. So I want to get you the best chance possible to build yourself a better life. It so happens I'm good at that; it's a big part of my job. And knowing that tiny part of me is there - makes me ashamed. So maybe I go a little more out on a limb to get you that chance than I would for just any student."

"I'd just screw it all up," Clint said, looking away.

"No you won't. You'll thrive," he answered. "Think about it, Clint. Nobody there will know who you were or what you went through before. All they'll know about you is what you choose to show them. And you'll be competing strictly against yourself, and for yourself - nobody's going to carry you, nobody's going to be out to get you. It's sink or swim." He brushed his fingertips over Clint's cheek. "And you're one of the strongest swimmers I know."

Clint drew back, picked up the manila envelope. "You had no right to do this. I don't fucking _want_ this." 

Phil shook his head. "It's a present. You don't have to accept it," he repeated.

He caught Coulson one-handed by the back of the neck and pulled him into a hard kiss before storming to the door. "I'm still pissed at you," he snapped on his exit.

Phil sighed and dropped back onto the sofa. "Happy - fucking - birthday," he muttered again, and killed his drink.

****************************

  


The next day, Clint burst into Principal Coulson's office during his lunch break.

Phil looked up from his laptop and watched him pace back and forth, body tense. "Barton?"

Finally he stopped and leaned heavily against the back of the visitor's chair.

"What is it I'm supposed to've said in my personal essay? In the application," he said.

Coulson's mouth opened. He closed it, opened a desk drawer and circled the desk with a file folder in hand. He leaned against the desk. "Why?"

"...I'm guessin' when I do this interview, they're gonna expect me to know." Clint mumbled it to the floor. 

Coulson held out the folder, and Clint took it, rifled through the pages. "Short 'n' sweet," he observed.

"I looked at some of your English papers, tried to mimic your style." Phil shrugged. "What changed your mind?"

"Went home. Tried to vent to Tasha, I was still so mad. She squee'd when I told her - you know that high-pitched squealy thing girls do?"

"To my eardrums' everlasting regret, yes," he said drily.

"Well, Tasha, she don't squee. But she did over this, and all this _stuff_ comes pouring out of her - plans and hopes and ideas about college. Stuff she's gotta've been dying to talk about for, like, months. But she's kept it bottled up 'cause I wouldn't talk about the future."

He looked away. "Tasha's folks? They _hugged_ me. They're talking about setting me and Tasha up in an off-campus apartment together. They're _glad_ I might be going with her. It's like they weren't even _surprised_ I got in. Almost got in."

"Obviously, they know you, then." Coulson smiled.

"They oughta know I been hurting my best friend in the world and I didn't even know it," Clint said. "What's that say about me?"

"That you're a teenager?" Clint chuckled. "Hill in Guidance can start planning your attack on the financial side of things, and I can help you prep for the interview if you like."

"Oh _hell_ yeah." Clint exhaled in relief. "Thank you."

"Thank you." At Clint's puzzled look, he added, "For carrying on an entire conversation with me as student to principal, and vice versa. I think that's a first for us."

Clint sidled around the chair, caught Coulson's tie and pulled him in for a hard, fast kiss. One hand slipped between their bodies to palm the bulge in Phil's slacks.

"Don't get too used to it."

**************************

  


_And that's the end of that,_ Coulson thought, bracing himself for the long slide toward graduation and Clint's departure.

He was wrong.

A knocking at his door roused him around midnight three nights later. Clint stood on the other side, looking haunted and raw. Phil ushered him in, and Clint kissed him like a drowning man might cling to a life preserver.

This time, except for Clint's one hoarse word - "Bed" - there was no conversation.


End file.
